


Secret Magic

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf/Hobbit Relationship(s), Dwobbits, Garden Child, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, One Big Happy Family, Parent-Child Relationship, Reconciliation, Stone Child, Twins, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: Bilbo and Thorin courted during the quest, but after the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin falls into a coma so to heal his injuries. Bilbo, assuming he’s dead – and that his nephews are dead – cuts the courting braid he had put in Thorin’s hair so he could save the line of Durin from extinction…Thorin, meanwhile, wakes, finds his braid gone, and assumes that his transgression against Bilbo was too much to forgive. So he carves a child of his own…





	1. Chapter 1

~1351 – Shire Reckoning – Second Age~

Frerin son of Thorin sneezed so hard his nose hurt, and his vision swayed. He shook his head to rid himself of the dizziness and wiped his nose on his cloak once his father turned back around.

His pony nickered as it attempted to get at some grass. He pulled on the reigns unsuccessfully and kicked its flanks. Still, the pony did not move from it’s grazing spot until Kili grabbed the bridle and pulled, successfully getting the pony back on task.

Frerin’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he trotted back to Thorin’s side.

“Not too cold?”

“No, Adad,” he said, sniffing. He wasn’t cold. It was almost mid-summer and if anything, he was sometimes too hot. Still, sneezing was unavoidable. He always got sneezy and sniffy when he went riding. Like a true Dwarf, he pushed past it, but even so, his father worried.

Too much.

Sometimes it annoyed Frerin to no end.

“How much farther, Adad?” he asked. Frerin had been careful not to ask too often, but even though he only asked once a week, he could see the vein pop on Thorin’s head. While he didn’t like getting in trouble, it was hilarious to see Thorin lose his temper.

“We’re already in the Shire,” Thorin replied with a note of tired exasperation. “But we won’t be in Hobbiton until tonight.”

Frerin almost cheered. A proper bed sounded wonderful! And a bath in an actual tub! And food! Not jerky or waybread or whatever could be hunted or scavenged…

A pair of Hobbits jumped out from the bushes, landing in front of Thorin. The pony reared up, shocked. Frerin’s pony jumped back as Thorin regained control.

Thorin dismounted and gave his pony to Dwalin as he knelt to check on the Hobbits, who Frerin could tell were children.

“Where are your parents?” Thorin asked once assured they were all right. The girl clapped her hand over the boy’s mouth.

“We aren’t supposed to talk to strangers,” she declared loudly before pulling on the boy’s arm. Before another word could be spoken, they were gone.

#

Jasmin pushed Hildo down and they hid as the Dwarves passed by. Once they were out of sight, Hildo shoved her back. “Jaz, he was nice.”

“Papa said that being nice doesn’t mean a person’s good,” she reminded him. Jasmin stood and dusted her skirt. “Come on. We don’t have much time before sundown. We should get home before Supper.”

Hildo sighed and nodded. Getting to his feet, he shoved Jasmin down again and ran, cackling, back home. Jasmin shrieked and chased after him, vowing vengeance.

He almost beat her home, except Jasmin, as usual, managed to catch him. Once Hildo was subdued, Jasmin climbed over him and banged into the door.

“Cheater!” Hildo shouted as Jasmin wiped her feet of excess dirt.

“More like justice,” she corrected. “You pushed me down first.”

The door creaked open and the two children donned matching smiles, though they knew feigned innocence never worked on their father.

Bilbo Baggins arched a brow at the twins, arms crossed over his chest.

“You were fighting again?” he asked.

“No. Not fighting,” Jasmin said.

“We can’t deny roughhousing though,” Hildo admitted.

“Well, would it count as roughhousing if we were outside?”

“I think it does.”

“Fair enough.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Go wash up. Supper is almost ready.” He caught Hildo around the waist as he raced to get inside. “Feet.” Hildo squirmed out and scraped his feet against the doormat before rushing inside. Bilbo closed the door behind them and went to finish setting the table.

Jasmin came to the table first and embraced Bilbo around the waist, thanking him for the meal. As they ate, the twins told him of their adventures in the woods that day.

Including the run in with Dwarves.

“Jasmin wouldn’t let me talk to them,” Hildo complained.

“We aren’t supposed to talk to strangers, Hildo!”

“Your sister’s right,” Bilbo said.

“But what if it was our other father?” Hildo asked. “You told us our other parent was a Dwarf.” Hildo pouted. “You said Jasmin looks like him.”

Bilbo glanced at her. Jasmin did resemble Thorin. She had the same blue eyes, ebony hair, and freckles. Sometimes, Bilbo could swear that Jasmin had the same temperament and regality.

“The Dwarf we met looked the same! Just with a beard and boots,” Hildo said.

“A lot of Dwarves have dark hair and blue eyes,” Jasmin pointed out. “That doesn’t mean that the Dwarf we met was _him_.”

“But what if it was?”

“Because Papa told us that he died.”

“Oh,” Hildo said, dejected. “Right.”

“So, it couldn’t be him.”

“Okay, Jaz, that’s enough,” Bilbo said. “Eat your greens.” Jasmin glared at the vegetables, but obeyed, her nose wrinkling. Bilbo rubbed Hildo’s back. Sometimes Jasmin could be a little…

Insensitive?

Matter of fact?

Well, regardless, she was more like a Dwarf than a Hobbit even on her best days.

Hildo, though, was as Hobbit as a Hobbit could be, Dwarf blood and Took ancestry aside. Sometimes Bilbo wondered if he ought to have named him after Bungo rather than his uncle Hildigrim, but no one else seemed to think it odd so long as the family tradition carried on.

And family line, which Hildo would inherit after Bilbo. As for Jasmin, well, sometimes Hobbits would arrange a marriage early on to secure family alliances, but Bilbo was all right with no one wanting to have her as a daughter in law. He didn’t really like most of the Shire these days anyway.

Besides, sometimes he wondered if she’d do better in a Dwarven kingdom. She was too young to leave home now, but perhaps when she was in her tweens, he could set something up in the Blue Mountains…

#

Frerin looked around the inn as the Dwarven caravan laughed and joked with the usual patrons. He dared not ask questions with his mouth full – it was not becoming of a prince – but the women were kind and curious of him.

He supposed children were as rare in the Shire as they were in a Dwarven kingdom.

Thorin made sure Frerin ate as he answered any question Frerin had in between bites. After he ate, Frerin was pushed toward the bedroom he’d share with his father. “Will I meet him?”

Thorin arched a brow. “Bilbo?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure he’d like to meet you, Frerin, but I don’t know if he’d want to see me.”

“I can go with Kili, though. Right?”

“I suppose so,” Thorin said.

Once in the bedroom, Frerin pulled his boots off and dove under the covers. “Adad, why do you not want to see him?” he asked as Thorin pulled his boots off. “I thought he was your One.”

Thorin set the boots aside and moved to his coat. “He is my One, Frerin, but some things happened between us that weren’t…” Thorin exhaled, setting the coat on the back of a chair. “For now, all I can say is that it’s better for us to be apart. He might not want to see me.”

Frerin stared at him, worried. Thorin, seeing that Frerin was disturbed, managed a smile.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Mesemel. Go to sleep.”

With that, Thorin snuffed the candle and they were engulfed in darkness.

Frerin couldn’t sleep.

#

“Careful with the oil,” Bilbo said. “You don’t want too much.” Hildo nodded and carefully drizzled oil onto the heating pan as Jasmin beat the egg yolk into a yellow froth. “There we go. Hildo, could you fetch the bread, please?”

Hildo handed the tea spoon and bottle back to Bilbo and went to the pantry. Jasmin glanced at the pan as Bilbo spread the oil over it.

“Now?”

“Not yet, but you can stop mixing the eggs and get the marmalade.”

She carefully set the bowl down and went to do as she was bidden. With the twins in the pantry, Bilbo had a moment to take a breath.

He hadn’t expected to have twins sprout from his garden after he returned to the Shire and planted the two braids that were cut – his and Thorin’s courting braids. It was all that he could think to do when Thorin died: to cut the courting braid he had put in free once death took over and plant it with his own courting braid on his return.

In doing so, he could get his relatives off his back about heirs and allow the Line of Durin to endure, safe in the Shire without anyone knowing.

And if no one knew, no one would hunt his children like Thorin, Fili, and Kili had been hunted.

Dwarves weren’t likely to have more than one child at a time, and Bilbo’s family hadn’t been very lucky in terms of fertility, compared to most families in the Shire, where five children and two parents were considered a small family.

Not that he wasn’t happy to have both of them. He hoped for a son to carry on the family line, but always felt blessed when he came out one morning to check and see two little flower sprouts attached to one stem.

Jasmin had come forth first, lungs strong and healthy. Hildo’s blooming had been just as easy and from then, both of them were in competition for who could be the loudest baby. Then the first to walk, to talk, to use the toilet instead of needing their nappies changed.

Everything was a competition between the twins. Sometimes it drove Bilbo a little bit mad. A year ago, their competitive nature got so bad, they had actually started physically fighting. He pulled them apart, gave them both a sound whack on the behind with a wooden spoon, and sent them to time out.

Usually they weren’t that bad. Bilbo often didn’t need to do more than lecture them. Even then, he often would get disdainful stares from parents younger than him who would dare to call him too strict when he thought them too lenient.

Too many children were starting to get away with things that were simply unacceptable. Robbing a window sill of a cooling pie was one thing, attacking one’s mother in the middle of the market was another. Had he dared do what he had seen Lotho Sackville-Baggins do to his mother – feelings toward Lobelia regardless – to his own mother, he’d be lucky if he could sit comfortably and still have supper.

His father wasn’t one to withhold the rod and with two half-Dwarf children, Bilbo didn’t see much reason to either. That said, Jasmin and Hildo were quite well behaved and very polite. Especially when they wanted to be. Hildo was the favorite of the townsfolk. He was a proper little Baggins of Bag End.

(However, the old women tended to mutter, “If only he was not Bilbo Baggins’ son,” when they thought Bilbo wasn’t listening.)

And though Bilbo never told them that they were royalty, Jasmin was a princess to the core. A Dwarven princess, but still a princess. When she put her mind to it, Jasmin was the sweetest and prettiest fauntling in Hobbiton. Until she got angry, of course.

(The old women also muttered that Jasmin was “too wild and unruly for a proper hobbit lass,” and that they “would not stand for their grandsons to court _that_ Took-Baggins.” Bilbo decided that he’d rather she not be married into those families anyway.)

“I got the bread!” Hildo shouted, setting it on the table.

“Damn it!” Jasmin shouted, almost cracking the marmalade jar when she banged it onto the table.

“Jasmin!” Bilbo snapped. She winced.

“Sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again.”

“Papa, the eggs.”

“Fuck!” Bilbo hissed. The twins giggled as he rescued the eggs. Realizing he just cursed in front of them, he cleared his throat. “What do I have to do to make sure you two _never_ repeat that very, very bad word?” They gave him identical grins.

“Candy,” said Hildo.

“A new doll,” said Jasmin.

“Done. We’ll get those when we go to the market. Deal?”

“Deal,” they chimed.

“Good. Let’s eat before we have any more slip ups.”

#

Frerin was awed by the number of children running about with their mothers and fathers. He had never seen so many children at one time! A few would stare back at him, which made him a little self-conscious. Not because he was a child, too. Most of his people were awed by children anyway, as they were so rare among the Dwarven populations, but more about how he was dressed.

The Hobbit men had short hair and none of them wore braids. The women would leave their hair down unadorned or in a tight bun. If anyone had any adornment in their hair, it was a flower or more. Not one Hobbit wore shoes. Every single one had feet as large as a man’s and covered in a sort of fur that matched the shade of their hair.

Frerin glanced at his own clothes. They were Dwarven in design, finer fabrics that could withstand the elements. He had sturdy boots of padded leather and fur. His hair came to his waist and was held back in Dwarven braids naming his station and lineage: a direct descendant of Durin the Deathless, a Longbeard Dwarf, and the son of Thorin Oakensheild.

He was Frerin, son of Thorin, son of Thrain.

A prince of Erebor.

And yet, he felt that, from his other father being one of them, he should look and behave like them just as much. Until he came here, he never felt out of place.

He hated that feeling.

“Frerin, do you want a honey cake?” Kili asked. Frerin nodded, a grin lighting his face. He joined his cousin as they selected an assortment of honey cakes for later.

He glanced at Thorin and Dwalin, who was speaking with the blacksmith. “Did Adad say it was okay to get these?”

“Never mind that,” Kili said, ruffling his head.

“If we get in trouble, I’m leaving you in the dust.”

Kili laughed as he paid the baker. “I’ve dealt with worse from your father, Lad.” Frerin mulled over that thought as he ate his cake and decided that given that his cousins were like older brothers in a way, he supposed they had seen Thorin at his angriest.

“Kili,” Frerin said cautiously, “Does my other father hate Adad?” Kili glanced at him, eyebrows raised high. “Is that why Adad can’t go see him?”

“No. It’s not like that. It’s something they have to work out together, Frerin. To be honest, I think there’s more to it than meets the eye. Hobbits have a different culture so there was a lot of miscommunication between your parents when they met. Cultures clashed and things just…went wrong between them. You’re too young for all the details right now, though. That’s all I can say.”

Frerin hated that they kept him at arm’s length on the matter surrounding why his parents weren’t together. His Hobbit parent was alive. Everyone said he was.

So why?

What happened that was so horrible that they didn’t want to tell him?

“Kili?”

They stopped and turned to the Hobbit. Kili laughed.

“Bilbo!” he cried, handing the package to Frerin as he went and embraced the Hobbit that called his name. The Hobbit welcomed the embrace, grinning back and laughing. The two Hobbit children from the other day watched the exchange with confusion.

Frerin approached, standing beside Kili as he, like the other children, watched the exchange.

“I was just getting some fresh food for supper tonight,” Bilbo said, holding up a basket. “And I still have a couple errands to run for these two.” The two of them grinned.

“Oh?” Kili asked. “So…you married?”

“What?” Bilbo looked shocked at the idea. “No. I’m not married. I…well…to be honest, Kili, if I seem a little unnerved or shocked or what have you it’s because I thought you died. You and your brother.”

Kili’s smile ebbed. “You thought we died?” He swayed. “Me and Fili?”

“Yes.”

“Even Thorin?”

“Thorin died in my arms,” Bilbo said, frowning. “I was there when he took his last breath.”

“Thorin’s alive,” Kili interrupted. “You cut his braid, so he thought you wanted nothing to do with him.”

Frerin looked once again at Bilbo. He looked ashen. “Alive?”

“Yes. And here.”

“I…I cut his braid because I…oh Yavanna…I, um…”

“Papa?” The girl said, staring at him with worry.

“Papa, you like you’re going to pass out,” said the boy.

“Kili, where is he? In Erebor still?”

“No, he came here with me, Dwalin, and Frerin,” Kili pointed back the way they came. “Last I saw him, he was by the forge talking to the local blacksmith. I don’t know if he’s still there, but we’re staying at the Green Dragon.”

Frerin tugged at Kili’s cloak. “Kili, should I go find Adad?”

“No. Not yet,” Kili said, prying him off. “Bilbo, you need to sit down.” He took Bilbo’s arm and led him to one of the benches. Frerin and the two other children watched them go. Once seated, Bilbo broke down and the girl ran over to them, hugging Bilbo.

Frerin turned to the boy. “I’m Frerin, son of Thorin.” He bowed. “At your service.”

The boy bowed back. “Hildo Baggins at yours. Bilbo’s my father. And the girl’s my twin sister, Jasmin. Do you know what that’s all about?”

“Not really,” Frerin admitted. Hildo hummed, rocking on his feet and staring at the ground. Frerin could imagine how confused the boy was. He felt just as confused.

#

Jasmin kicked her feet as Bilbo and Kili talked in hushed tones. After a few minutes. Kili stood and bumped his forehead to Bilbo’s.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “But I don’t know if he’ll believe me. Or if he’ll come.”

“If not, I’ll go to him,” Bilbo said. “Goddess above, I swear I never would have cut the braid if I thought he was alive.”

“I’m not the one to explain that to,” Kili said. “I’ll do what I can to make him come to tea tomorrow. I’ll certainly be there, so will Dwalin and Frerin.”

Jasmin glanced at the younger Dwarf, who was laughing at something Hildo had said.

Was that Frerin?

Kili approached them and guided the Dwarf child away. Hildo ran over to them.

“Can Frerin come over soon, Papa? He’s really nice and you know his cousin, so –”

“They’ll be over for tea tomorrow,” Bilbo said, dabbing his eyes.

“Are you all right, Papa?” Jasmin asked.

“Um…yes. I’m just in a little shock, Love,” he said. “I still need to get you some candy and a toy.”

“We don’t need it, Papa,” Jasmin said. Hildo nodded. They were only getting those things because Bilbo had sworn in front of them and promised them if they never repeated it. “Let’s go home and have some tea instead. Hildo and I will make it and we’ll be careful.”

“Very careful.”

Bilbo sighed shakily. “All right. So long as I watch you, you can make the tea.”

With that, they returned to Bag End. As soon as cloaks and parcels were put away, Jasmin was filling the kettle as Hildo lit the hearth. Once the fire was lit, he went to get the tea tin. Jasmin hung the kettle over the hearth and joined him in the pantry.

“You think Papa would rather have chamomile or peppermint?” Hildo asked.

“Ask him,” Jasmin said as she selected a sponge cake.

“Fine, I’ll bring both out.”

They returned to the kitchen and set the table. Bilbo watched them carefully, almost shaking, as they prepped the table for second breakfast. The kettle whistled and Jasmin poured the hot water in the tea pot with the utmost care.

As the water cooled, Hildo cut three slices of sponge cake and handed them out. Bilbo thanked them, massaging the bridge of his nose.

Once all three were seated, Jasmin cleared her throat.

“Papa, who was that Dwarf?”

Bilbo swallowed and glanced at her, then at Hildo. “He’s your cousin.” He set the fork down and massaged his face. “I don’t know how much you listened to, but he told me something that I think is very happy news.”

#

Frerin focused on his dinner as Thorin and Kili talked in the corner. He glanced over at them every so often, wondering if he should be over there, despite the assurances otherwise from Kili.

When the plate had been cleaned of the food before it, Frerin pushed the plate aside and grinned at Dwalin. “Can I have dessert, Mr. Dwalin?”

“Go ask your Da.”

“Adad will just say no and send me to bed.”

“Then that’s what will happen and you’ll do as you’re told.”

Frerin groaned, laying his chin on the table, staring at Dwalin with the largest eyes he could give. Not that it worked well. And even if it did, the last time Dwalin had given in, Frerin got sick from eating too much. Thorin had not been pleased with everyone involved in his sudden need to vomit, but he did feel better afterward.

“Why are you pouting, Mesem?” Thorin asked on his return to the table.

“Can I have dessert?”

“No,” Thorin said. “It’s too late now to have sweets.”

“See, Dwalin. He’s going to send me to bed soon.”

“The sun has set and the moon rising,” Thorin pointed out. “You need to sleep, Frerin.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“You’ll be tired enough soon,” Thorin said, rubbing Frerin’s back. “I know you’ve been invited to have tea tomorrow with Kili, so you will have sweets then.”

Frerin still pouted. “Fine. I guess I can wait.”

“Good. Go get ready for bed.”

“See?” Frerin snapped at Dwalin, who shrugged as Thorin ushered him up the stairs.

#

Once Frerin had been put to bed, Thorin locked the door and returned to the dining room. Dwalin and Kili watched him approach them. Once seated, Kili cleared his throat.

“You know you can’t avoid this, Uncle.”

“I won’t be,” he assured him. “But I need to see him alone. Not when the children are about.”

“We’ll keep them distracted,” Kili promised. “Won’t we, Dwalin?”

“Don’t drag me in this.”

“You don’t want to get to know the other prince and princess of Erebor?” Kili asked, pouting. “Well, I suppose that makes sense a bit, after how much you spoil Frerin at times.”

“I do not spoil him.”

“You both do,” Thorin pointed out. “He’s a good lad, so I’m not surprised he’s charmed half of the kingdom…”

Kili nodded. It was true. Frerin had what Bilbo would have called “Hobbit Sense.” He wasn’t terribly interested in gold or gems or mining, but had taken up horticulture with gusto and loved food. Making food and eating it if he could.

He leaned against the table, thinking on the two siblings that were just discovered. The boy was as Hobbit as a Hobbit could be, but Bilbo’s daughter…

“The girl is a bit too much like Thorin, though,” he decided.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize about the last chapter I posted. Some of you noticed that it wasn't the right chapter for this story and I do apologize. It was a chapter for another story. It has since fixed and I present the ACTUAL second chapter for "Secret Magic."

Thorin left Kili in charge of Frerin.

The more he thought of what he’d been told, the more intense his need to see Bilbo again grew.

The dawn was orange, casting a bright glow on the Shire’s peaceful countryside. He found the green door, dulled from lack of touch up and the rune remained clear even in the daylight.

He entered through the garden gate and walked up the steps to the door. Thorin rapped his knuckles against the wood and waited.

The door creaked open and he gazed in, seeing that the door had been answered by the little girl that had nearly been trampled by his pony.

“Is your father home?” he asked.

“He is,” she said. “But we weren’t expecting company till tea time. You’re too early.”

“Jasmin, what are you doing at the door?”

Bilbo took hold of the door and shooed the girl away with a frown. He didn’t seem to have aged at all. The only indication of the pass of time was the greying hairs on his head and feet.

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispered.

He wanted to reach out and take him in his arms. Embrace him. Kiss him. Instead, Thorin kept his hands to his sides and managed a smile.

“You seem well.”

“As do you,” Bilbo replied just as quietly. “Come in. We were in the middle of making breakfast, but you’re welcome to join us.” He stepped aside, allowing Thorin to enter. “I think we both owe each other some sort of explanation.”

Thorin agreed as he removed his cloak. It was warm in the house, even in the early morning.

“But after we eat, I suppose. I have many questions, and I’m sure you do as well. Kili told me you had two children now.”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “Twins. And they are yours, before you ask.”

“Kili did say that you had a daughter – that girl, I take it.”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “Her name is Jasmin. Suitable for a Hobbit lass and also for a Dwarf princess, or so I thought. And we’ve a son, too. Hildo.”

“Hildo?”

“For my uncle Hildigrim. The former Thain. He passed and I missed his funeral while I was with you on the quest. I think he’d be pleased with having a namesake of some sort.”

He led Thorin into the kitchen, where the two children were setting the table.

Kili had been right. Jasmin did resemble Thorin.

Her hair was black as onyx and her skin freckled from being out in the sun so often. Her ears, which she smoothed her hair over, were rounded like a Dwarf’s ears rather than the pointed ears of a Hobbit.

The only two indications that she was not whole Dwarf were the large, furry Hobbit feet and beardless face. Granted, given her youth, she would not grow a beard for some time. If at all.

Hildo took his appearance from Bilbo in all forms. Even the pointy ears. He was also a little shorter than his sister, for all that they were the same age.

The lad stared at him and grinned.

“Papa, this is the dwarf we ran into the other day!” he exclaimed. “Not the two from the market, though. From earlier this week.”

Hildo pattered over.

“We didn’t get a chance to say hello properly last time,” he said, sticking his hand out. “I’m Hildo Baggins. That’s my sister, Jasmin. We’re twins and we’re eight years old. We’re Earth Born, though I don’t think Dwarves know what that means.”

“Hildo, only Hobbits know what being Earth Born means,” his sister snapped.

Bilbo groaned in a manner that suggested that this was something that happened often as he went to rebuke her for being so short with her brother.

 _Definitely a daughter of Durin_ , Thorin thought.

“No,” he said. “I don’t know what that means,” he said, kneeling to meet Hildo as close to eye level as he can and took the boy’s hand in his own. “But I would like to hear about it. My name is Thorin.”

The boy’s eyes widened.

“Thorin Oakenshield?” he asked reverently.

#

Frerin pouted, pushing at his food.

“You need to eat,” Kili told him. “Or your father will be cross and not with you. I’ve been on his bad side enough times to know I want to avoid it.”

“But I want to meet my other father, too.”

“You _will_ be meeting him,” Kili sighed, ripping a bread roll in half. “This afternoon. With me. As we had agreed.”

“Adad went early.”

Kili sighed and glanced at Dwalin, who shrugged.

“The king does as he likes, lad. He probably wanted a moment alone with your other father. That’s all. They’ll need it.”

“Hopefully your brother and sister are asleep.”

Frerin perked up. “Brother and sister?”

“Yeah, you were talking to your brother yesterday,” Kili pointed out. “You’ll see them this afternoon, lad, so will you eat now? Take a little pity on your poor cousin?”

“Fine. But only if we get presents.”

“For who?”

“For my brother and sister, obviously.”

Dwalin and Kili exchanged a glance.

“Thorin’ll kill me,” Kili muttered.

“It’s that or let Frerin continue this mood. Besides it’s not for him. Thorin can’t be too angry about that.” Kili massaged his neck, sighing.

“Fine. We’ll get them something before we head out. But Frerin you don’t know them well enough to get them anything. Nor do I.”

“I’m sure there’s something,” Dwalin pointed out.

There were plenty of games and toys that everyone could enjoy. A length of rope, a hoop and stick, and so on. Preferably something that all three children could enjoy together.

With that decided, Frerin’s mood lightened and he shoveled eggs into his mouth.

After breakfast, Kili fixed Frerin’s braids. Frerin kicked his feet as he was groomed.

Even if no one here knew the significance of his adornments, he was a prince and would look and act like one. Frerin thought he did that well enough, thank you very much.

Besides, he felt out of place in the Shire when he looked more Dwarfish.

All this he vented to Kili, who snorted.

“You are a Dwarf,” Kili reminded him.

“Technically I’m half-Dwarf,” he said. “And half-Hobbit. But I don’t look like any of them.” Kili finished braiding his hair and Frerin twisted around to look at him. “Why don’t I resemble a Hobbit in any way if I’m half-Hobbit?”

Kili swallowed.

This was a question Thorin should answer.

Not him.

Granted, he knew the answer, but it wasn’t for him to say. The whole company had asked Thorin that very question when he was carving Frerin.

“How about you ask your Adad,” he said. “I think he’d be able to explain it better than I can. But you have more their mannerisms than their appearance. But your hair’s a little curlier, isn’t it? Like a Hobbit’s. Plus, you do resemble your other father in some ways,” he said. “Just because your hair is black rather than blond doesn’t negate that. And you’ve got his nose. And his eyes. Not to mention a Hobbit’s appetite.”

Kili poked Frerin’s belly, risking getting his hand slapped and glared at for his teasing.

“You also love things that grow and can name every plant and herb that grows around the mountain and Dale. You are half-Hobbit. You were carved to be half-Hobbit. Why your Adad made the choices he did when he carved you are his own and you can ask him that when he gets back. Or when we see him next. I’m sure he’ll explain it better than I could.”

Frerin nodded, though he still frowned. Kili bunted him, smiling softly.

“Get your shoes on, lad,” he said. “And we’ll go see if we can find something you can give your brother and sister. I think it’d be a good idea also to bring something for tea, hm? You can choose that, too.”

Frerin’s mouth finally twitched into a smile.

“Okay.”

#

Jasmin watched Thorin, still unsure what to make of him.

They thought he was dead, so why didn’t he come back sooner if he was alive?

She didn’t know if she wanted to know why he delayed.

So instead of talking to him, she let Hildo dominate the conversation.

He was better at that, anyway.

At last, her curiosity got the better of her.

“Why didn’t you come sooner if you were alive all this time?” she blurted out.

Hildo silenced, looking from her to Thorin.

Papa groaned, massaging his forehead.

“Jasmin…”

“I think we deserve to know, Papa.”

“No, you do, but sweetheart, we talked about this.”

Thorin cleared his throat.

“I suppose the best way to answer that is to find out how much you know about Dwarrows.”

“Not much,” she admitted. “I know that you are warriors, miners, and smiths. I know you grow your hair long and wear braids even when you’re a man. But that’s about it.”

Thorin hummed. “The braids a Dwarf will wear are very significant,” he said. “They can name a Dwarf’s family, his station in life, his profession, and even if he or she is in a relationship with someone.” He took a moment, swallowing.

“Cutting these braids can mean dishonor of some sort, depending on the braid cut. Having a family braid cut is akin to disownment, a braid symbolizing your profession, when cut, could mean you were fired from that job or are in some way unacceptable or unsuited to the work. When it’s a braid for a relationship, it usually means you or the person you’ve been courting have ended the relationship.

“I was very badly injured and had fallen into a coma. I and my kin were near death and entered a coma so to heal. Our bodies would be entombed in stone for a short while as we healed. These tombs are carved of healing stone to help the process. Your father…I’m guessing he was not told this properly.”

Bilbo nodded. “I thought you were being buried because you were dead, so I cut the courtship braid I had put into his hair. I know you know why, Jasmin.”

Jasmin nodded. She did.

Thorin continued:

“For me, when I woke, I thought he had ended our courtship. I had not been…I was not the best partner, especially leading up to getting injured. I was…mentally sick, under an effect of a curse that affects my – _our_ family. I was not myself. When I realized the braid had been cut, I was sad, of course, but I thought it was deserved. I thought it was for the best and I thought he’d never want to see me again. It was only yesterday that I learned otherwise.”

“Had I known he lived, I wouldn’t have cut it at all,” Bilbo said. “I’d have stayed and waited for him to be well enough so we could work through the problems we had. Now, I can’t say I regret it entirely.” Bilbo wrapped his arm around Jasmin. “I’m glad I had you and Hildo, Jasmin.”

“Can we wear braids?” Hildo asked.

Bilbo smiled and glanced at Thorin. “I’m all right with it if your Adad is.”

Hildo turned at Thorin with wide eyes. “Please?”

Thorin looked at Bilbo, who nodded. “I’ve no beads to secure them,” he said. “But give me a few days and I’ll have something for you and Jasmin.”

“In the meantime, how about the two of you go play,” Bilbo said.

#

The twins didn’t seem keen on doing that but obeyed never the less.

Once Thorin and Bilbo were alone, Bilbo slouched, sighing and massaging his head.

They sat in silence for what felt to be a long while.

“I should have come for you,” Thorin said. “Had I known what I know now…”

“Well, that’s just it, is it?” Bilbo asked. “You didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Thorin, I meant what I said: I thought you had died. Had I known otherwise, I wouldn’t have cut that braid free at all.”

“I still could have written. But you only wrote to the company. Not to me or my nephews. All three of us thought you wanted nothing to do with us.”

“You could have still written me. All three of you could have. I would have written back and probably would have come back once I was certain I could do so safely. Now, though…well, I would like for them to know more about their Dwarrow heritage. One day, when they were older, I had thought to take them to the Blue Mountains.”

“Not Erebor?”

“Well, Erebor’s a bit far,” Bilbo said. “Granted, when they were of age, I wouldn’t be against going back to the mountain. Showing them where their journey began.”

Thorin hummed. “What is Earth Born? Or is that a secret of your people like a secret of my own.”

Bilbo shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s…Well…the earth here in the Shire is…magical, I suppose I could say. And we can use that magic in a way that other lands aren’t able to do. Most land can bring forth flowers and vegetables and fruit trees, so on.

“But here…well…I guess…if you have the essence of two persons – hair, a broken nail, spit – you can bury it in the earth here in the Shire and in a few months, it will grow into a flower. When that flower opens, within is a child. Sometimes more than one, as was the case with us.

“But that child is as functional as any child born of a woman. It’s the only way someone like myself can have an heir of any sort. That is what Earth Born means. Rather straightforward.”

Thorin blinked. “I think I understand…you cut my braid free and planted it?”

“With mine,” Bilbo said. “Yes. I kept the beads that bound them, though.” He reached for his neck and pulled a chain free. Hanging on the chain were two silver beads.

Thorin stared at the clasps.

He wanted to reach out for him.

To touch him.

Kiss him.

Braid the bead back into his hair.

Renew their courtship.

But after all this time?

After all he had done to him?

“Thorin?” Bilbo approached him and took his hands in his own. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Bilbo gripped Thorin’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “We are not doing that again. You’ve repressed your emotions enough and that was part of the problem the last time we were together. I’m not going to just let you hold back from me this time. So, tell me: what’s wrong?”

Thorin swallowed. “Bilbo, I am better. I know I am. Still, I hurt you.”

“You were sick.”

“It changes nothing. I hurt you. After I swore to love you, to protect you with all that I am, I tried to kill you.” He sighed. “I won’t ever deserve you and yet I still yearn for you. Knowing you thought I died…perhaps it was for the better.”

Bilbo shook his head. “No, Thorin. It wasn’t. As I said, I don’t regret having my children. I do regret that no one properly explained to me what they were doing for you and the boys, but that is not your fault. Nor is it mine. The rest of the company should have been clearer. Still, we can’t change what happened. You were sick, Thorin. It wasn’t you.”

“But it was, Bilbo. I might not have been in my right mind, but it was me. You have every right to hate me. And instead, you gave me two children. More than that: you gave me a daughter. Do you not know how rare females are for Dwarves?”

“I do know. Only a third of your people are female, I know. And even less are inclined to motherhood.” Bilbo pressed his forehead to Thorin’s. “If you want to rekindle our relationship, then I will allow it. I lived the last ten years without you, and I don’t fancy the idea of doing that again. I love you, Thorin. I always will. I know I’m not a Dwarf, but you are my One.”

Thorin closed his eyes, throat tight. “ _Amrâlimê._ ” Bilbo kissed his forehead. “ _Ghivashel_.”

“I want to be with you if you will have me, my king.”

Thorin embraced him, holding him tight as though afraid Bilbo would disappear. Bilbo ran his fingers through Thorin’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“May I put my braid back in your hair?” Bilbo asked. “And will you braid mine?”

Thorin tightened his hold on him. “I would love nothing more.”

#

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Hildo asked. Jasmin searched the river’s shore for a good skipping rock.

“Likely what to do now that Papa knows that our other father’s alive.”

“You think they’ll get married?”

Jasmin hummed and turned to her twin. “Maybe, but not for a while.” She lifted a smooth, grey rock and examined it. It wasn’t a perfect disk, but rocks never were, even when they were ideal for skipping. She turned to the Brandywine and flung the rock. It skipped twice, then sank. “They might start courting again, though.”

“Would that work, though?” Hildo asked. “Only, our Dwarf papa is still a king and Erebor’s so far away.”

Jasmin nodded. “I’m wondering that, too,” she admitted. “But I think he and Papa will figure it out if they really want to be together. Personally, I wouldn’t mind moving to Erebor.”

“Why? Don’t you like the Shire, Jasmin?”

She turned to him. “After what people here say about us and also about Papa, why would you want to stay? Maybe Erebor would be better for us.”

“Maybe, but even then, I don’t think Papa would do it. He wants me to take over as the family patriarch,” Hildo reminded her. “I’d have to stay here.”

“Papa wouldn’t do that to you until you were of age,” Jasmin reassured him.

“But the last time he left for Erebor, the Sackville-Bagginses took Bag End from him and were auctioning off his things and what he inherited from Grandma Bella and Grandpa Bungo,” Hildo said.

“Well, they wouldn’t dare again,” Jasmin said haughtily. “Papa isn’t above skewering people with Sting and Mrs. Sackville-Baggins has been _asking_ for it for years.”

Hildo sighed and banged a stick on the ground. “You mean _you’re_ not above skewering people,” he said. “Papa wouldn’t dare because he’s a Hobbit and Hobbits don’t do that.”

“Well we’re _not_ Hobbits!” Jasmin shouted, her temper flaring. Hildo arched a brow, unimpressed at her outburst. “And we’re not Dwarves either!”

“We are,” he said. “We’re both Hobbit and Dwarf. It’s not anyone’s fault that you look less like a Hobbit than I do. You fit in well enough, though. Or would if you weren’t so hotheaded.”

Jasmin scowled and searched for another rock, ignoring Hildo when he shouted excitedly until she heard voices join his own. She turned back around, turning another rock in her fingers as the Dwarves from yesterday approached them.

Their elder brother and cousin. And an older Dwarf, too, with a bald head and large arms. Jasmin dropped the rock and chased after Hildo. Hildo was always the more excitable of them and like a few hours ago, was asking the three Dwarves question after question.

Jasmin, as was her own preference, stood beside him and observed. The younger Dwarf seemed to have the same talent, just watching and answering when it was his turn, as well as watching. Observing.

At last, their eyes met, and he grinned at her. Friendly as Hildo, but perhaps calmer…

“You’re my sister, I take it?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m Jasmin Baggins.”

“Frerin, son of Thorin.” Their cousin cleared his throat and Frerin jumped a little before bowing slightly. “At your service.”

Jasmin arched a brow at him. “Really?”

“It’s supposed to be polite, but I don’t see how.”

“Again, I’m not going to risk getting in trouble with your Adad because you behaved less than polite, even to your siblings,” he said.

“And yet,” Jasmin rounded on him, smirking. “You have not introduced yourself. So why should you impose propriety on our brother when I don’t see why there was a reason to. He was polite enough for my liking.”

The bald Dwarf laughed and the other looked almost pained.

“You’ve a point,” he said, then bowed. “Kili, son of Vír, at your service. And this is Dwalin, Captain of the King’s Guard.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with the king?”

“While in the Shire?” Dwalin asked. “What could possibly happen here?”

Jasmin’s smirk grew more ominous. “You never know.”

“Are you daughter of Thorin or Daughter of Dis?” Dwalin snapped.

“Who’s Dis?” Hildo asked.

“Kili’s mother and our Adad’s little sister,” Frerin replied with far more ease than the older Dwarves seemed to care for.

“Well then,” Dwalin patted Kili’s shoulder. “I suppose I should at least go check on Thorin. Make sure Bilbo’s not killed him.”

“Why would Papa do that?”

“Figure of speech,” Dwalin assured the twins. “Kili, you’re in charge.”

#

Thorin couldn’t stop staring at Bilbo. Particularly the new courtship braid he had put in his hair which hung behind his ear. Bilbo, in turn, had put in a braid of his own in Thorin’s hair. His skill had improved – likely from practicing them on Jasmin.

He was making second breakfast now, though Thorin was still rather full of the first.

Would it be too soon to wrap his arms around Bilbo’s waist and kiss his bare neck? For now, he opted for caution.

The doorbell rang. Thorin assured Bilbo he’d get it, guessing – and half hoping – that it would be Dwalin or Kili and Frerin.

Dwalin stood on the doorstep with a pinched expression, like he wanted to laugh and break something at the same time.

“What?”

“You’re certain the girl is yours?”

Thorin arched a brow, letting him inside. “Bilbo says she is.”

“She’s too much like Dis.”

Thorin hummed. “That’s only to be expected. But if she’s that like my sister, then they must never meet.” Dwalin snorted.

“Aye, I agree. Yet knowing Dis, once she knows she has a niece, that meeting will happen whether we like it or not. I don’t know if I should fear more for you, Bilbo, your boys, or all of Dwarvendom.”

“Well…if we all survived Dis, I think we can survive Jasmin.”

Dwalin chuckled. “We’ll see,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Durin Family Angst and Feels ahead.

“Dwalin!” Bilbo called, “Are you hungry? Second breakfast’s almost ready and Thorin’s certain he’s too full!” The two of them went to the kitchen.

“If I were to eat as often as you’d want me to, _amrâlimê_ , I’ll get as fat at Bombur.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bilbo said, grinning at him.

“Back together, then?” Dwalin asked, spying the braid in Bilbo’s hair.

“Is that a problem?” Thorin challenged.

“No. I’m pretty sure this will actually be celebrated back in Erebor. For a month. Granted, how is it going to work with you still being King? You’re needed in Erebor. And though Frerin did well on the way here, I can’t imagine three Dwobbits would make the journey any easier.”

Bilbo hissed. “Oh, dear. That’s true. And I can’t just uproot my life again. Not with the twins. The last time I did that, I came home to find that my relatives had tried to take over my house!”

“We’ve time yet,” Thorin assured them both. He could not deny having the same worries. The idea of being separated from Bilbo again, knowing the truth of what had happened now and knowing Bilbo still loved and desired him…

Erebor or the Shire, it didn’t matter where he called home, so long as he could have his One back.

 _No. Not just my One,_ Thorin thought as Bilbo and Dwalin entered the kitchen. _My family._

“Is Kili with Frerin still?”

“And the twins,” Dwalin said. “I think he can manage them all.”

“I’m sure he can manage the boys,” Bilbo corrected. “Jasmin can be a bit of a troublemaker when she wants to be. For all that she’s a bit dour. No thanks to Thorin, I’ll bet.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Eh, you can be, Thorin,” Dwalin said. “Still, Kili will be fine. Frerin’s been a calming influence on him, if nothing else. Maybe the other two will mellow him out more. He’s still got the energy for it.”

“True,” Thorin chuckled, sitting at the table across from Dwalin. “That’s very true.”

“Mellow? Kili? If you mean Fili, then sure, I can see that, but not Kili,” Bilbo said, setting a full plate in front of Dwalin. “Are you sure –”

“I’m certain, Bilbo, I’m very full. I can last till lunch after that first breakfast.”

“You mean elevensies,” Bilbo said.

“No. Lunch.”

“Lunch isn’t till one.”

“I’ll survive,” Thorin assured him.

“Thorin, get used to the fact that you’re going to get fat,” Dwalin said. He took a bite of sausage. “That’s what happens when you decide to court a hobbit. Granted, I don’t think Frerin’s going to have much of an issue with seven whole meals a day.”

“No, I imagine he wouldn’t,” Thorin chuckled. “I will have some tea, though, Bilbo, if that will settle you.”

“It’ll do for now,” Bilbo said with a sigh. “But as Dwalin said, you may as well get used to being well fed, Love.”

Thorin snorted. “Whatever will I do?”

#

While the children played along the river, Kili debated what to put in his letter to his mother and Fili. Thorin might not want to tell Dis about the twins yet, but she’d be better off finding out sooner than later. And Fili would take to having more heirs well enough, too.

He sometimes wished he had Ori’s talents in writing and drawing. Just so he could send a portrait of the twins to them.

Frerin took to having little siblings well enough. He was patient with them, but Kili thought that he was just happy to have actual playmates. Children were rare in the mountain and his Hobbit side led to him growing quicker than most Dwarrrowlings. Here, he had a chance to have proper friends. Children he could grow up with, not surpass in both height and intelligence within months.

As for the twins…

Hildo was like a clone of Bilbo in some ways, but then he’d do something that was distinctly Dwarven. Like tackle either Jasmin or Frerin to the ground. Kili had worried at that at first, but Frerin and Jasmin gave as good as they got.

He smiled fondly at them, remembering how he used to do the same to Fili and Fili would lock him in a headlock and they’d roughhouse madly. They could get away with it if they were out of the house, but if they were in, then _oh Mahal_ …

No bane of Durin would be as frightening as their mother and uncle.

When they met Ori, they included him as easily as the twins did Frerin. He recalled that his parents and uncle would watch them as he was, cautious but fond. So long as no one was truly hurt, they could roughhouse as much as they liked.

Frerin ran toward him and seized his hand, pulling him. “Come on, Kili. Come play.” Hildo soon was by their side, pulling on Kili’s other arm.

“I think you’ve all more energy than I have,” he admitted with a smile. While he was still quite young, true, not yet in his triple-digits, he was not a child anymore either. “You seem to be having enough fun without me, well enough.”

“But we need a dragon!” Hildo whined, digging his heels into the earth.

“Why do I have to be the dragon? Couldn’t Frerin or you be the dragon?”

“No. We’re the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

Kili laughed. “So, I’m Smaug?”

“Yes!” They shouted at him, finally getting him off the ground just a little bit.

“I think not. I’ve dealt with that quest and I don’t think I could be that terrifying. Dwalin, maybe.”

“No, Jasmin’s Dwalin.”

“No, I’m not! I’m Thorin!”

Kili was trying not to laugh as Frerin and Jasmin argued who would be a better Thorin.

He recalled these games. They never ended well because everyone wanted to be the hero, and no one wanted to be the villain. Or the damsel.

For now, he let them fight it out.

“Who are you supposed to be in this little reproduction?” he asked Hildo, who beamed.

“Papa, of course.”

#

They gave up their play around eleven o’clock, rushing off back home for their third meal of the day. Kili followed at a subdued pace and once the three dwobbits had disappeared into Bag End, he collapsed on the bench next to Thorin and Dwalin.

“They’re not even full Dwarrow, yet they’re more work,” he complained. “Frerin was maddening enough! Now there’s three of him!”

Thorin’s shoulders shook and his coughing sounded too much like laughter.

“After all the shite you and Fili got into, I think you are more than able to handle three Dwobbits,” Dwalin said around his pipe. “If anything, Frerin’s far more manageable than you and Fili ever were.”

“Debatable,” Thorin said, clearing his throat. “He’s better behaved, in some ways.”

“Yeah. Some ways,” Kili agreed demurely. He stretched. “I should write Amad and Fili. So, should you. Let them know we arrived safely and what you and Bilbo decided to do.” He paused. “What have you two decided?”

“Oh, they’re back together,” Dwalin said. “They’re in another honeymoon stage. They’ve already put in new braids.”

“I know that I have to figure out what to do about Erebor,” Thorin snapped at Dwalin. “And I will figure it out. All will be well this time around.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Dwalin said. “But you can’t blame a bloke for wondering what you and Bilbo are going to do. Courting’s hard enough without children. Now you’ve three.”

“I think you’re not giving Thorin and Bilbo enough credit,” Kili said. “Keep in mind, the first time they courted, we were all headed off to face a dragon. All of us knew it was possibly suicidal but did it anyway because we trusted him. Mahal only knows why, but we did.”

“Thank you, Kili. Your faith is overwhelming.”

Kili slapped his chest, resting his hand over his heart, as he declared: “I can’t help that I am my mother’s son. You thought it a good idea that Fili and I be your heirs. You did that knowing full well what could happen if you did.”

“I know, Kili. I know.”

“Still, given all that, given we all survived. Not unscathed, but still alive, well…to be honest, I think second time’s the charm. Especially without the threat of violent death over everyone’s heads. Now if you two can communicate better.”

“We’ll manage, Lad,” Thorin assured him. “All I need to do is find out how I’m going to get out of eating as often as he does.”

“Just accept it: you’re likely going to get fat.”

“Think of it this way, Uncle: you’ll never have to go hungry again.”

Thorin and Dwalin stared at Kili.

“You weren’t ever to know,” Thorin said.

“Uncle, Fili and I always knew. Since we were old enough to understand why you’d say you weren’t hungry most nights when we were children. We wanted to ask you about it for a long time, but Amad found out first and convinced us to not bother you with it.”

The three Dwarves took to smoking silently. At last, Thorin lowered his pipe.

“You and your brother were still young. You were our future. I wanted to make sure you survived to adulthood, even if it meant I starved. So long as you two lived, I could bear it.”

“We guessed that. But you don’t have to go to such great lengths anymore. You haven’t for a long time.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty for needing the energy to grow,” Thorin added. “That’s why I never wanted you and Fili to know.”

“We know. Why do you think we still ate?” Kili grinned. “Besides, you did get our leftovers.”

“That’s true. You two did that purposefully?”

Kili nodded. “You may have stopped growing, but we knew enough that without even a little food, you might have also died like Adad.”

Dwalin cleared his throat. “That’s depressing.”

“But it was what it was,” Kili added. Thorin gently knocked his head to Kili’s.

“You and your brother will do great things. I know this. I always knew it. Thank you, Kili. You shouldn’t have known, but I am proud that you found a solution that would benefit the whole family.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“Adad!” Frerin shouted, running out. He held a mug in his hands. “Have you tried this? It’s called cocoa! It’s melted chocolate and water and you drink it!”

Of course, he’d be excited over something that he could eat (or drink, in this case) and that it contained chocolate. Thorin took the mug from him and took a sip.

“Very good. Did Bilbo make this?” Thorin asked.

Frerin nodded, bouncing excitedly. “I added the sugar, though. That’s what makes it easier to stomach.

“Tell him I said thank you, I’m going to stay outside with Kili and Dwalin a little longer.”

“Okay.”

Frerin raced back inside. Thorin set the mug down between him and Kili. “Too sweet.”

“Right up Frerin’s alley, then,” Kili laughed.

“Aye.”

Kili picked up the mug and took a sip himself, and promptly coughed. “Whoa, kid does not know how much sugar is too much.”

“He’ll learn,” Thorin decided. If Bilbo had any say in anything, it was that Frerin would know how much seasoning, spice, herb, and condiment counted as too much.


	4. Chapter 4

~Two Months Later~

~Erebor~

Fili stretched and yawned as he arrived at Dis’ rooms for breakfast. A pair of ravens were enjoying sausage bits as a stack of letters rested on the table, unopened. Save one.

“Amad?”

“Take a seat,” she said. “The eggs are almost done.”

Fili did so, picking up the letter and began to read:

_Dearest Sister,_

_We have arrived safely in the Shire and we are all well._

_Kili will likely send his own letter letting you know how he fairs and might as well follow through on his threat to tell you things that are better revealed by myself. I would not put it past him to do so._

_He is your son and his loyalties are first to you, for all that I am his king and uncle, and ergo the patriarch of the Durin line. Not that it mattered much, to be true._

_Now I am sure you are wondering what I am talking about, so I may as well get it out._

_There had been miscommunication between the company and our Hobbit._

_You know I had thought he ended our courtship abruptly and cruelly after the battle that nearly left me and the lads dead. Nothing could be farther from the truth._

_Bilbo had thought I and the lads had passed to the halls of our fathers._

_Since coming to the Shire, we have reconciled and explained ourselves properly, and we’ve agreed to renew our courtship._

_He required my hair and, believing I had died, decided the braid of intent he had woven into my hair would do for what he needed._

_That need, I hesitate to say as I know it might give you ideas, was for a bit of magic his people practice here in the Shire._

_The particulars of the ritual are simple, but I am unsure whether to reveal them as a letter can be intercepted. All I can reveal is that you’ve two more kin from Bilbo’s magic._

_I’ve another son, named Hildo, and – I hesitate to say to you because I fear what you’d do now that you’ll know – a daughter, Jasmin. Twins, eight year of age._

_Enclosed is a portrait of all three of my children._

_Getting them to stay still long enough for that was trouble enough._

_The lads are well behaved enough, but it is Jasmin that I fear will cause the most trouble. As it was when you were a child._

_She is the more Dwarven of all three, and I had carved Frerin to be more Dwarrow at that, for all that put Bilbo’s personality in him._

_Bilbo and I thought it well that the twins also write to you and Fili, so I will refrain from bragging too much over how genteel Hildo is or how great a warrior Jasmin could be one day if I could find a way to teach her how to hone that natural skill._

_As it is, I fear that a female warrior will have better luck. Women’s strength is different from that of men.  Perhaps you know of a Dwarrowdam nearby who could take on the challenge of teaching Jasmin combat?_

_Bilbo and I are working out what to do now that we’ve decided to get back together._

_With three children, we do not feel it would be best to travel back to Erebor. And yet I know I must return if only to prepare Fili for Kinghood._

_I also know that Frerin will have to return so that he could learn from Fili as well. I fear that. I know Frerin will do well as a king one day, but he is already in love with the Shire._

_Having children about that are closer to him in maturity helps. I will not enjoy the day we have to leave._

_As it is, Erebor is Frerin’s birthright. Bilbo and I agreed to that, as Hildo will inherit the title of Lord from Bilbo. (Bilbo insists he is not a lord, but given what I have seen, he certainly is.)_

_Hildo will inherit the home as well, and the lands which Bilbo watches over in Hobbiton._

_Jasmin’s future is less determined._

_It is tradition for a lady to wed into another family when she comes of age, but I fear that will not suit her. I suppose that I will leave any advice on how to aid her to you, Dis._

_As much as I do not like you and my daughter conspiring together, I know she would benefit from your wisdom and guidance – if you wish to be her mentor, of course._

_My letter is long and yet there is not much else to write without it getting too long. So, here, I will bid goodbye until I receive reply._

_– Thorin_

Fili set the letter down and picked up the portrait.

In the center was Frerin, beaming happily, with his arms slung around two others.

The other boy, he supposed, was lighter of hair. A spitting image of Bilbo as much as Frerin was of Thorin. Hildo was to Frerin’s right.

To his left, Fili surmised, was Jasmin. It was like looking at his mother. Or that she resembled how his mother looked when she was that young.

“Are you wondering who they are?” Dis asked, setting a bowl of eggs down.

“I read the letter Thorin sent you,” he admitted. “So, trust me, I’m doing everything in my power not to order Balin to take over while you and I go to the Shire to meet them.”

Dis chuckled. “I know what you mean, Love,” she said. “Particularly if it means meeting Jasmin sooner.”

“Well, you _can_ go,” he pointed out. “It’s me who has to stay and rule the kingdom. Ugh. I’d rather have gone with them.”

“I’m sure you would have,” she said. “As it is, you are regent while your uncle is away.” Dis grinned. “I’m sorry, my love, but you are stuck until Thorin returns.”

“I’ll find a way to suffer through it,” Fili sighed, dishing out food onto his plate. “Knowing you, Amad, you’ll likely take it on yourself to mentor Jasmin.”

“Of course,” Dis said. “As if I would have it any other way. She is a Princess of Durin’s Folk. A princess of Durin’s Folk is not just a lady of great standing among her people, graceful and beautiful, but also a Shield-Maiden skilled in sword, bow, and axe.”

“Uncle must agree if he’s asking you for any suitable mentors for her. She must be lacking women like herself in the Shire.”

“All the more reason for her to come to Erebor instead of stay in the Shire,” Dis decided.

Fili couldn’t recall the last time his mother seemed so excited.

Was it when she reunited with her family ten years ago after Erebor was reclaimed?

Or was it when the breath of Mahal entered Frerin and he opened his eyes for the first time, waving a tiny hand and latching onto Thorin’s hair?

Those were both joyous occasions for her, he supposed.

He was just as glad to meet his little cousin then.

He had worried that he’d be bumped down in succession. Usually that was how it went, so he had prepared to move to second in line, or even be regent in Frerin’s place until he came of age and could rule Erebor.

Thorin never thought to do that at all and had asked Fili if he would mind Frerin being _his_ heir. Fili had agreed, gladdened by the solution, though it had left the council grumbling about the line of succession being broken.

Fili had asked Thorin about that, and was surprised by Thorin’s response:

_“How is it being broken?” he asked. “You are a son of Durin, and you are my heir. I had always meant for that to be the case._

_“I am offering you the chance to mentor and teach what I have taught you to your little cousin. I raised you to be king and I am past my prime._

_“I would like to see Frerin grow to adulthood, but I know that I could die before then. Why should I change what I’ve already intended?_

_“I know you will be a good king, Fili. And I know you will pass on what I taught you to Frerin when the time comes._

_“If you wish to call yourself Prince Regent instead when I die, then you may. But you will not be crowned. You will only rule until Frerin comes of age._

_“And he is Half-Hobbit. We don’t know how long that will be. I would rather you take the crown. And if Frerin still wishes it when it is your time to go to the halls of our fathers, he will take the crown after you._

_“I think that is the fairest solution for both of you. You remain my heir. And Frerin will be your heir. You will both be king under the mountain in your own time.”_

“You are thinking too hard,” Dis said.

Fili blinked and smiled. “Just wondering how Uncle does it. Finding the best solution so long as his family is happy.”

“He is very good at that,” Dis agreed. “He always was. Your uncle loves his family, his people, and his home deeply and passionately. Thorin has always been that way. He will always put those he loves first. He didn’t like your father much, at first, but after a while, they were close as blood brothers.”

“I know,” Fili said. He didn’t remember much about his father, but he knew he was a good man and had broken tradition by marrying into Dis’ family, rather than taking her into his own.

Rare and counter-traditional in every possible way…

Perhaps he meant for his children to be Thorin’s Heirs. Or perhaps it was a similar agreement to what it seemed Bilbo and Thorin had made in regard to Frerin and Hildo.

The rest of breakfast passed in silence. Fili glanced at the unopened letters, curious of what else he could expect to read…Another look at his mother made him wonder…

“Amad, you’re thinking of going to the Shire. Aren’t you?”

“Leave my niece to my imbecile brother? I think not. Just need to make a few arrangements and I’ll be on my way.”

Fili sighed. He’ll have to warn them.

~Two Months Later~

~The Shire~

_Thorin,_

_The letters arrived safely. I am glad you, Kili, Dwalin, and Frerin are in good health and that you’re enjoying your stay so far._

_I’m also glad that you and Master Baggins were able to clear up any miscommunications you had and have decided to try again. I hope that you’ll be less dour now, if nothing else._

_If you think for a second that I am letting another Dwarrowdam teach my niece what it means to be a Queen of Durin’s Folk, let alone a Queen of Erebor, you’ve another thing coming!_

_I will be leaving within a fortnight for the Shire. Fili and Balin can handle Erebor just fine without me._

_With me are the Brothers Ri and Ur, so I will find your Hobbit’s home easily enough, thank you very much. We’ll be there before the winter sets in, we hope._

_With love,_

_Dis._

Thorin read the letter a second time. Then a third, hoping his eyes were deceiving him. He _knew_ he shouldn’t have told Dis she had another niece and nephew!

“All right, Daddy?” Hildo asked.

Thorin sighed. “Go warn Papa that six Dwarrows are on their way to Bag End.”

“Other than you and Kili and Dwalin?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know. But he’ll want to know who.”

True. Very true. Thorin sighed and handed the letter to Hildo. “Go ahead and give that to him. If you need me, I’ll be training with Dwalin.”

“Okay.” Hildo took the letter and ran to Bilbo in the garden as Thorin took Orcrist in hand.

He needed to hit something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know we're skipping a lot time wise but I wanna keep it sweet and cutesy, so...


	5. Chapter 5

“Adad and Dis Irak’Amad get along well enough,” Frerin said. “But Adad says that Irak’Amad annoys him more than he’d like. She’s nice, but a bit scary when she’s mad, though. Adad’s the same way, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Jasmine finished weaving the daisy crown and placed it on Hildo’s head before heading to collect more and make another for Frerin.

“So…she’s nice?” Hildo asked. “Dad didn’t seem all that happy when he found out.”

“She’s actually very nice. She just likes to bug him, and they tend to argue a lot, but you can tell they aren’t really mad at each other.”

“But if they get along for the most part, why is Dad unhappy that she’s coming to the Shire?”

Frerin shrugged. He didn’t quite understand his father’s relationship with his aunt any better than other Dwarves.

Balin told him it was a brother-sister thing and most Dwarves only had brothers if they had any siblings at all.

“Well, we fight sometimes,” Jasmin reminded Hildo. “But we aren’t ever really mad at each other. And if we _are_ we don’t let it fester.”

“True, but I still don’t understand why Dad wouldn’t like our auntie coming to the Shire.”

“Maybe it has something to do with that you two are twins and they aren’t?” Frerin suggested. “Dis Irak’Amad is Adad’s Namadith…erm, little sister. She’s also Kili’s Amad.”

“What’s a mad?” Hildo asked, brow furrowed in confusion. “Don’t you mean a mom?”

Frerin blinked. “Amad means mother. Like how Adad means father.”

“I know that a dad means father.”

“No! It’s Khuzdul. Dwarf language.”

Hildo and Jasmin continued to stare at him, clearly confused. He groaned, wondering why Balin couldn’t have come with them. He’d have an easier time teaching the twins Khuzdul.

But that begged one crucial question: would his siblings, who grew up in the Shire, be allowed to learn Khuzdul? He hadn’t an issue talking to them in Khuzdul, but Frerin didn’t think he had the patience for teaching anything. Then there was also the sacredness of the language.

He didn’t think he’d get in trouble teaching a couple words to his siblings…

Would he?

“Well, anyway, she’s Kili’s mother.”

“Wait. If she’s younger than Dad,” Jasmin said. “Then how is it that Kili’s the older?”

“She married a couple centuries ago.”

“People can’t live for centuries unless their Elves,” Jasmin argued.

“Yes, they can,” Frerin snapped back. “Dwarves can live an average of two hundred and fifty years. Some live longer than that. Irak’Amad got married when she was…erm…ninety, I think. She had Fili, who’s Adad’s heir-son, when she was ninety-nine years old and Kili when she was a hundred and four. Kili’s eighty-seven now and Fili’s ninety-two.”

“Kili _can’t_ be in his eighties,” Hildo said, joining in the argument. “He can’t be older than forty.”

“Exactly,” Jasmin agreed with a confident nod of her head.

“Then how will you explain Adad being two hundred and five years old?” Frerin snapped.

“He’s not,” Hildo declared.

“He’s at least…what? Sixty? Like Papa.”

“Yeah.”

Frerin groaned, deciding to give up. The twins weren’t going to listen to him on the matter of Dwarrows. Jasmin was too much of a smart Alek. Hildo, for the most part, was always more likely to side with her.

“Jasmin, Lads,” Papa called. “Lunch is ready.”

They made their way down the hill above the house. Frerin vowed to make sure Adad or Kili or Dwalin set the twins straight on the matter. If they wouldn’t listen to him, who had lived with Dwarves his whole life, they’d likely listen to Dwarves.

Hopefully.

#

Thorin and Kili waited on the Eastern Borders. There was no way to stop Dis from doing what she desired, but at the very least, she could be welcomed by familiar faces.

“Think Fili would have snuck after them?” he asked.

Thorin sighed. “If he knows what’s good for him, he wouldn’t have dared.”

“Still, must hurt not getting to see Bilbo again,” Kili said, grinning. “I get to rub it in his face when we go home.” Thorin chuckled.

“You can if you like, lad, but it’d be your funeral.”

“Like Fili would dare,” Kili scoffed. He glanced back at the road. “I see them!”

Thorin had to squint, but he did indeed recognize that damned hat Bofur always wore. And Nori’s iconic hairstyle, too.

Ten minutes later, the ponies halt and the group dismount, greeting their king and prince. Ori seemed a little disappointed at first, noticing Dwalin was not among them.

“He’s with Frerin,” Kili assured him. “Back at Bag End.”

“I suppose that’s only to be expected,” Ori said.

“Are your other two as stuffy as Bilbo?” Bofur asked Thorin.

“Well…Jasmin can be when she wants to, but for the most part, no. Frerin and Hildo are the most like him and they aren’t…what’d you call it? Stuffy? Yeah. No.”

“Jasmin’s more like Thorin, actually,” Kili corrected. “She’s a Durin’s Daughter to the bone.”

“Good,” Dis said, grinning. She bunted Kili’s forehead gently and smirked at Thorin. “Don’t worry, Nadad. She’ll be in good hands.”

“I doubt that,” he said, sighing dramatically. “I fear what nonsense you’ll poison my daughter with.”

Dis laughed loudly. The eight of them headed back to Bag End. Kili delighted in telling them about all that’d gone on since they last saw each other. It was near tea time when they finally approached the green door of Bag End.

Frerin was pouting angrily on the bench, arms and legs crossed and brow furrowed. Thorin sighed, wondering what had gotten under Frerin’s skin this time. The lad usually was good at letting things go, after all, unless it really bothered him.

Kili whistled, calling out to Frerin. He glanced at them and jumped off the bench.

“Adad, Hildo and Jasmin won’t listen to me!” he declared.

“About what?” Thorin asked, deciding to ignore Frerin’s neglect to greet the others.

“I told them that Dwarves live at least two and a half centuries and they didn’t believe me! They’ll listen to you, though.”

Kili, Nori, Ori, and Bofur were trying not to laugh at Frerin’s plight, mouths tightly sealed. Kili’s shoulders were shaking from trying to hold in his mirth. Thorin sighed.

“I’ll talk to them, Lad.”

“Okay.”

“But you need to understand that your brother and sister live here, and Hobbits have shorter lifespans than us, so they might have been confused.”

Frerin’s eyes bugged. “Wait, they really do have shorter lives here?”

“Yes, Zabadith,” Dori said. “About a century, if they’re lucky.”

Dis cleared her throat and arched a brow at him. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Frerin?”

Frerin winced and grinned sheepishly at her. “I did. Hello, Dis Irak’Amad,” he said. “Was the journey here okay for you and your group?”

“It was. Other than this little mishap, do you get along with your siblings?”

“I do. Especially Hildo. Jasmin’s a little mean, sometimes. Papa’s already set tea, so just go on in. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to process how it’s possible for Hobbits to live shorter lives than us when they’re nothing like Men.”

“Should we tell him?” Kili whispered to Thorin.

“That the Hobbits have ancestors that mated with Men? I’d rather Bilbo handle this.”

Kili nodded. “Good idea.”

Thorin waved the others inside and sat beside Frerin, who certainly looked like he was experiencing a little mental trauma.

“Does it bother you?” Thorin asked. “That Papa is younger than you think he’d be?”

“A little bit,” Frerin admitted. “But if he’s really in his sixties now…”

“He and I match in maturity, even if we do not in physical age.”

“Does this mean I won’t live as long as a Dwarf would?” Frerin asked. “I know I’m more mature than my age mates back in Erebor because of my Hobbit side, but does that mean I’ll only…”

“We don’t know,” Thorin said. “You and your siblings might live as long as a Hobbit, or you might live longer. Of course, Papa and I hope you and the twins have long, fulfilling lives, but if it’s only a hundred years, well, Men manage it well enough.

“I’ve no doubt you, Hildo, and Jasmin will make the best of your lives. You will be a great king one day. Hildo will be master of Bag End and patriarch of the Baggins family.

“Jasmin…well, we’ve yet to see what sort of woman she’ll become. Maybe she’ll be a mistress of another home here in the Shire, or perhaps she’ll rule beside you in Erebor like Dis does with me.”

“Adad, if we only have a hundred years than…than I might die before Fili does,” he said. “What if I’ll never be king?”

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

“I’m sure you and Fili will find out how to make it work,” Thorin reassured him. “There’s time till then, lad. Who knows? Maybe you and the twins will live as long as Dwarves in the end after all.”

“But we _aged_ the same as Hobbits so far.”

“Indeed, you have,” Thorin said. “And? I don’t see a problem with that. Sure, it threw me for a loop when you were talking in full sentences by the time you were two, but I’m not bothered by it. Neither should you.

“You’re a new breed of Dwarf, in a way. There’s never been anyone like you and your siblings before. I have nothing but the utmost confidence that you’ll make me proud, my lad. You already do, every day.”

Thorin bunted his head against Frerin’s gently. “Come on. Let’s go have tea and you can ask Papa all the questions you have about how Hobbits age compared to Dwarves. I’m sure the twins will be hounding me just as much.”

“True…Adad, they also aren’t listening to me when I’m trying to explain Khuzdul.”

Thorin hissed in a breath. “They weren’t born Dwarves, so I don’t know if they’ll be allowed to learn it.”

“But they’re half Dwarf, like me,” Frerin said. “I was allowed to.”

“That’s…different. I’ll see what I can do.”

He wouldn’t mind the twins learning Khuzdul. Not at all. The other Dwarf Lords, though…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Khuzdul~
> 
> Irak’Amad = Aunt  
> Adad = Father  
> Namadith = Little Sister/Younger Sister, literally: Sister that is young  
> Amad = Mother  
> Nadad = Brother  
> Zabadith = Little Lord, literally: lord that is young


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are progressing slowly...but we are progressing.

Jasmin connected with Dis much quicker than Thorin would have liked. She must have really liked having another woman around that matched her in some ways.

Most Hobbitesses weren’t the sort who cared for adventures and warfare. That, obviously, was the Dwarf blood in Jasmin’s veins. She soaked up Dis’ lessons and wisdom.

Hildo usually took to following the Ur brothers about, helping in the kitchen and sharing snacks with Bombur while also wanting to learn whittling from Bofur.

Dwalin and Ori were glad to be together again, much to Nori’s and Dori’s chagrin. However, it seemed that the two of them had given in, realizing that if Ori was determined to be with Dwalin, he wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.

Thorin lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the room he and Bilbo now shared. The winter would pass and when it did, he’d have to return to Erebor.

With nine dwarves and Bilbo, it’d be easier to handle the three children in the wilderness. At the same time, he and Frerin both loathed the thought of leaving, even if he was less vocal about it than Frerin.

At the same time, would Bilbo agree to such a trek again? With the twins who had never once ventured out of the Shire’s borders?

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Bilbo mumbled.

Thorin turned to him. He could make out Bilbo’s eyes in the dim, grey-blue light of the approaching dawn.

“Didn’t know it was possible to think loudly at all. Especially since my thoughts have not been voiced.”

“Would you like to tell me what’s on your mind, Darling?”

Thorin turned onto his side. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“The feared return to the mountain,” Bilbo concluded. “Yes, Frerin’s been begging me to convince you to let him stay, even if you can’t.”

“I was thinking, with a larger group, we might be able to handle the three of them on the road.”

Bilbo hummed. “Perhaps. It’s far too early to really give it thought, but after breakfast we can talk about it some more.”

“But would you want to go back to the mountain? After everything that –”

Bilbo pressed a finger to Thorin’s lips.

“Not now. It’s too early. Go back to sleep if you can. If not, then kiss me and take advantage of the fact that we’re both awake.”

Thorin grinned and obeyed, throwing a leg over Bilbo’s waist and cupping his face in his hands.

#

Frerin woke to the smell of bacon wafting through the smial. He jumped out of bed and threw on his bathrobe, bare feet pattering on the wood as he raced to the kitchen.

“Oi, there,” Thorin caught him around the waist, and lifted him up. “Where are you off to so quickly?”

“Breakfast,” he said. “I’m hungry, Adad.”

“Well, unfortunately, breakfast isn’t ready yet,” Thorin said, setting him down. “Off to the wash room with you.”

“But Adad,” Frerin whined.

“Breakfast will still be there when you’re dressed,” he said. “Like it or not, you’re still a prince and will conduct yourself appropriately.”

Frerin groaned, rolling his eyes, but complied.

After a quick bath, he brushed his hair and dressed. The braids would take too long to fix and his stomach complained from the lack of food.

Thorin caught him again and made him sit down as he tamed his hair. Frerin tried not to fidget as his father dragged the bristled brush through his hair, squeezing free excess water.

“So, what’s going on?” Frerin asked one Thorin began weaving braids into his hair. “You never do this.”

“Never? I’m sure I have a few times.”

“Maybe when I was little,” Frerin admitted. “But you’re usually too busy, Adad. Being a king.”

Thorin hummed. “How badly do you want to stay with Papa and the twins?”

“I can stay?” Frerin asked. Excitement bubbled in him and he had pulled the braid out of Thorin’s hand in his joy, turning to look at his father.

“I didn’t say that,” Thorin chuckled, resituating Frerin and picking up where he left off. “We do have to go back to Erebor, but I think that since your aunt, and the brothers Ri and Ur are here now, it might be easier to go back together. All five of us.” He tied the braid and moved on to the next.

“So…bring Jasmin and Hildo and Papa back to Erebor?”

“Yes. Just for a little while so I can help Fili transition to King. Once all that’s settled, we’ll return to the Shire.”

“Won’t I have to stay behind, then?” Frerin said. “Because I’ll need to learn how to be king from Fili?”

“If you want to stay when Papa and I are ready to come back to the Shire, then we won’t stop you. Or the twins, if they also want to stay. I trust your aunt and cousins can manage all of you, but I will admit that we’ll miss you a lot.”

Frerin thought on that, as Thorin finished the second braid.

He only had two: The first named his house, which was Durin. The second his station, a prince. He would earn more when he was older and started his apprenticeship in a craft and another in a preferred weapon. Frerin wouldn’t be old enough for that until his tween years. For Dwarves, that was when they reached forty years old. For Hobbits, though, it was twenty years old.

He wondered, then, when he’d be considered a tween. Would he be thirty, then? Would the twins?

None of them new. He thought on what Thorin said. That he could, if he wished, stay in Erebor with his aunt and cousins. Learn to be king standing by Fili.

He didn’t mind that. He loved his cousins dearly and knew he could learn a lot from Fili.

Yet…

“I would miss you, too, Adad. Besides, can’t I also learn about being the king of Erebor from you even though you won’t technically be the king anymore?”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’d rather do that. I mean, if we stay here, we can do more together. Right?”

“Right,” Thorin replied.

“Does Papa know?”

“We’re talking it over,” Thorin assured him. “He’ll discuss it with the twins, of course.”

“Jasmin would definitely want to go,” Frerin concluded. His sister was the more Dwarven of all three of them combined.

“Yes, I’m convinced she would, too,” Thorin said. “I’m more worried about Hildo. He might not take to the journey well enough and he might miss the Shire.”

Frerin’s stomach growled loudly. Thorin arched a brow at him and Frerin grinned innocently.

“Okay, go eat.”

Frerin whooped and ran to the kitchen. He sat between the twins, who were asking questions between bites. Questions about Erebor and the road they’d take.

Frerin decided to let the adults handle it as he munched on crispy, flavorful bacon strips.

“Will there be orcs?” Hildo asked.

Frerin wanted to tell him yes, but they weren’t likely to run into them, but Bilbo beat him to it.

“No, lad, there won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“I bet there will be,” Jasmin declared, smirking. Hildo paled and both of their parents shot her an unimpressed look. “Dad and Auntie Dis fought them loads of times.”

“Jasmin,” Bilbo said. “We are not going to go looking for Orcs.”

“What about goblins?”

“No.”

“Trolls?”

“ _No_. Look, Honey, we’re not going to go out there with the intent of looking for trouble and I pray to the Goddess that we have better luck than when I went on my adventure.”

“You think you’ll find it exciting, Jasmin, but it’s anything but,” Thorin said. “Seems your brothers have more sense in that regard.”

“But I want to be a warrior.”

“And one day, you can,” Thorin said, “But even warriors don’t start out in the field right away. They start with learning how to fight under a teacher. You’re too young and too inexperienced to face even one orc, let alone whatever else is out there.”

“At this point, Love, you’re just scaring Hildo,” Bilbo added. “And if we’re going to go to Erebor, I don’t want either of you to be afraid.”

Hildo nodded, still looking a bit queasy.

Jasmin looked at Hildo. “Sorry, Hil. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…just…”

“How you are,” he said. “I know. You like the scary stuff.”

“If it helps,” Frerin said. “We never ran into anything like Orcs, Goblins, or Trolls on the road. We didn’t even run into bandits or thieves. We did meet some Elves, but only the adults think that’s a bad thing.”

Hildo hummed, seeming a little less like he’d pass out, even a little curious and delighted. “What were they like?”

“They were awesome,” Frerin said reverently.

“Did they have magic?”

“I didn’t see any magic, but I felt it. It felt…like…not like the Shire, but still there. A different kind of magic. The Shire is magical, isn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah. But I don’t feel it much because I lived here my whole life.”

Thorin sighed and turned to Bilbo. “The boys are clearly yours alone.” Bilbo laughed.

“Perhaps they are,” he said. “At least Jasmin takes after you, I suppose. Sometimes I wished otherwise.”

Jasmin glared at Bilbo. “I’m right here, you know. You can just tell me, Papa.”

“Look, we’ve time to think about it more,” Bilbo said. “We will leave in a few months, which is plenty of time to select a steward for the house and get what we need for the journey there.”

“Will that mean we can go to Tookborough?” Hildo asked. Jasmin perked up.

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “We’ll be visiting the Thain.”

The twins cheered.

“Not today, though!” Bilbo shouted above the cheering. “We’ve too much to do first. Plans to make. Things to buy. We’re not running off like I did ten years ago.”

“We know,” the twins said.

“But still, we almost _never_ go to Tookborough!” Jasmin declared.

“Yeah,” Hildo added.


	7. Chapter 7

Tuckborough was a hilled land with spacious smials. Frerin had thought Bag End was grand enough, but he never thought of how wealthier Hobbits could have homes that rivaled the space of the royal quarters in Erebor.

While Bilbo spoke with the Thain about the decision to head East again, Frerin found himself wanting to explore. The twins had gone off somewhere to play with some cousin or other. They had been to Tuckborough many times before and its grandeur had worn off on them.

Frerin had let them go off without another word, pleased to just look around. There were portraits lining the walls of past Thains and their families. He recalled a tapestry that Thorin had hanging in Frerin’s room…

_“You will be questioned often about your heritage,” Thorin told him one day when Frerin asked about it. “So, study it when you can. See here,” he pointed to an image of a Dwarf, just a tier above Thorin’s. “That is your grandfather, Thrain. And this is my grandfather,” he pointed at the next tier. “Thror, the fist King Under the Mountain.”_

_“Where did we live before Erebor, Adad?”_

_“Moria,” Thorin said. “But that land is overrun with orcs now. We have tried several times to retake it, but I’m afraid it is a lost cause.”_

This was another tapestry. Larger than the one in his room back in Erebor. Likely because, as he examined it closer, he noticed that it named _every_ descendant born to a Thain.

Frerin pressed his finger to the bottommost line, looking for his siblings…

They weren’t there.

Why not?

Weren’t they also descendants of a Thain? Bilbo said his Grandfather was a Thain.

“There you are!”

Frerin turned to Bilbo. “Should I not have gone off on my own?”

“I’d have preferred it if you stayed with Hildo and Jasmin, but all’s well.”

Frerin hummed and turned back to the tapestry. “Papa, why aren’t you on here?” he asked. “You _are_ descended from a Thain, aren’t you?”

“I am, but my name won’t show up here. Nor will your siblings.”

“Why not?”

“Because the Thain you’re thinking of is my maternal grandfather,” he said. “My mother is on here, though.” Bilbo pointed at one name. Belladonna Took. A line connected her to another: Bungo Baggins. “Once she married into another family, her descendants will show up on her husband’s family tree. My father’s. Same as my aunts.” He motioned to the two more names after Belladonna’s.

Donnamira and Mirabella.

“Aunt Donna married into the Boffins family, and Aunt Mira is now a Brandybuck,” Bilbo said. “So, any children of their own will show up on those family trees rather than the Took’s. I have a copy of the Baggins family tree at home. It’s not a tapestry, more a rather lengthy piece of parchment that needs to be updated again, but it’s there.”

Frerin didn’t ask why Bilbo thought it needed to be updated. He could guess.

“Who’re we to the current Thain?” Frerin asked. Bilbo smiled and drew his finger along the line where his mother’s name was, then down one tier.

“The current Thain is my cousin,” he said. “Second of his name. His son will succeed him when he passes. And to his son. Unless he doesn’t marry and have children. Then it goes to the next living male descendant that is of age.”

“Aunt Dis says the girls should also be given a chance to rule.”

“I daresay I agree with her,” Bilbo chuckled. “But that’s not our culture right now. Perhaps someday it will be. Until then, girls will have to give their inheritance to their husbands.”

Frerin scratched his chin. “Jasmin’s gonna hate that. Isn’t she?”

“She will definitely hate it,” he said. “I daresay I’ll be hard pressed when the time comes to find her a husband…Which is why I think Adad and I are thinking of finding a Dwarf for her. Dwarven culture is far more open in certain regards than other races. Including Hobbits.”

Bilbo led him away from the tapestry. “Lunch is just about ready. We’ll be dining with the Thain and his family, so do be on your best behavior, Lad.”

“Will the twins?”

“If they know what’s good for them.”

#

Even now, Thorin didn’t spend as much time as he’d like with his sister. But today was one of the days where they could just bond. Catch up, as it were. They were quite close, truly. After her husband died…

Well, he wasn’t going to leave his family in the hands of another he didn’t trust. He trusted Vili enormously. The boys’ father had been honorable in every account one could be in. As good a Dwarf one could hope to meet…

Which was why he wasn’t likely to trust any other that set their sights on Dis.

“You’re lost in thought again,” Dis said, poking Thorin’s cheek. Thorin batted the hand away and returned to sharpening Orcrist. “What are you thinking about this time? You’ve not brooded so since you told me you were thinking of taking back Erebor.”

“I’m not brooding,” Thorin countered, glaring at her. “More remembering. But what’s done is done.”

Dis scoffed. “That it is. So, stop _brooding_ and sheath your blade so you can sharpen _mine_. Like you _promised_ to do.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “You know how to sharpen your own weapons, Dis.”

“But you’re a blacksmith,” she said, grinning. “You’re better at it than I’ll ever be. Now if we were talking about polishing and setting stones, then yes, I’d rather do it myself.” Thorin sighed and sheathed Orcrist before holding his hand out for her axe.

“How is Jasmin doing?” he asked. “She seems to hang on to your every word.”

“She does,” Dis said, grinning. “Your daughter is delightful, Brother. She’s a sharp mind and a brave heart. She’ll be a fine warrior when she’s older.”

Thorin hummed his acknowledgement. “Good. And…well…as a princess of Durin’s Folk?”

Dis snorted. “Recall how I was when I realized I was treated differently than you and Frerin because I was a princess of Durin’s Folk?”

“Yes.” She had been infuriating.

“Yeah…just a midge worse than I was.”

“I am not surprised,” he sighed. “Bilbo and I worry about her more than the boys.”

“Well, of course you do. The boys, by being boys, will not have to work as hard for their lot in life. Frerin is set to inherit the throne and crown after Fili. Hildo gets Bag End and all that comes with the name of Baggins as its next head of the family. Jasmin’s the only one out of the three who’s future is not certain. With boys, it’s simple. Girls…less so. Sadly, most daughters are treated as bargaining chips to strengthen alliances.”

“I know,” Thorin said. “We don’t want that for her…and yet…”

“You know that you have to decide something for her,” Dis concluded. Thorin nodded.

“We did agree that she’d be best with Dwarrow,” he said. “But that’s about it. I don’t…I don’t want to make this decision yet.”

Dis patted his knee. “Father was like that with me. When he arranged my marriage to Vili, he and I talked about it. A lot. For the most part, I knew I had to accept it. It was a good alliance to have. And Vili was a good friend to all of us. I couldn’t say I was unhappy with him before or after we married.

“But Father did worry that he made the wrong decision. So…to be honest, Thorin, I can’t tell you what to do about it. You might always wonder if you made the right decision. But Father and Grandfather were still sane when my betrothal was finalized. And even after, they honored it.

“You just have to trust that you’ll make the right decision when it comes time to arrange a match for Jasmin and hope it works out. And if it doesn’t, she will know that she is always welcome to come home where she will be safe.”

Thorin scoffed. “That’s obvious. If any Dwarf or Hobbit or what have you decides to hurt her, it’d be the last thing they do.”

Dis grinned. “Exactly,” she said, patting his knee again. “At the same time, you could be getting ahead of yourself. You’ve only known your daughter a few months. I know Bilbo has probably been thinking about it more. He’s raised her. You, Thorin, just need to build a relationship with the twins. Just as Bilbo is working on building one with Frerin.”

“That’s where I fear I don’t know what to do,” he said. “With the boys, it’s one thing. What does a Dwarf do with a daughter? The only thing I can think to do is get her fine dresses and jewels.”

Dis laughed. “Well, that’s a start, but I don’t think that’s what she wants. I think your daughter is more warrior than princess anyway. She’ll be happy with a sword or axe.”

Thorin hummed. “That actually simplifies things a lot,” he said. “I was going to make the boys matching daggers for the journey back to Erebor. It wouldn’t be hard to make a third for Jasmin.”

“Huh. Look at that. Give a warrior a daughter, he won’t know what to do until he realizes his daughter also has a warrior’s potential. Then he knows exactly what to do.”

Thorin glared at her. “Must you mock me?”

“All the time, Brother.”

#

Jasmin saw red.

She, as she was wont to do, lost control of her temper and slammed her fist into Saradoc Brandybuck’s nose. She felt two sets of arms pull her back. She shrieked, kicking and thrashing, as Hildo and Frerin pulled her off the older boy.

“Back off, Saradoc,” Hildo snapped. “Or we’ll let her go.”

“Fucking bitch!” Saradoc shouted, covering his nose as best he could with tears streaming down his cheeks and blood dribbling down his chin. “This isn’t the end of it, Jasmin Baggins –”

“What in the blazes is going on?!”

Frerin and Hildo kept a hold on Jasmin even as Saradoc and his own posse ran off as Bilbo approached.

“Saradoc called us half-breeds,” Hildo explained. “Jasmin lost it again. But he did deserve it.”

“Oh, Yavanna…” Bilbo groaned.

“We got her off before it got too bad,” Frerin said.

“I’d have been glad to let it go a little further,” Hildo admitted darkly.  Bilbo shot them unimpressed looks. “What? You know he deserves it.”

“That’s not the point, Hildo,” Bilbo snapped.

Jasmin tore free of her brothers’ holds and ran off in the opposite direction. She needed to be alone. She needed to cool down. She sprinted to the banks of the Brandywine river and collapsed on the sand, weeping and smoothing her hair over her round, Dwarven ears so that they’d not be seen.

Once sure her ear would not be noticed, she pulled her legs up so she could hide her face between her knees as she wept.

She wasn’t…she was Half-Dwarf. That didn’t make her a half-breed. She was a whole _new_ breed of Hobbit and Dwarf.

Right?


End file.
